Persian Earl Grey And Stars
by Cappuccino-Dreams
Summary: The stranger had spoken five words and done nothing but be bright and smiling and for some reason, this pissed Spock off. No one was allowed to be this way during this time of the day.


**Pairing(s):** Spirk, if you squint  
 **Word count:** 1199  
 **Author's note:** I haven't written non-academic stuff in ages, but I hope ya'll will enjoy this small piece anyway /o/ coffee shop AUs/canon divergence give me life. Also cross-posted to my tumblr.

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 _For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream._

 _\- Vincent van Gogh, Letter to Theo, 1888_

Spock just wanted a cup of black tea to start his morning, as he always did. A young stranger behind the counter whose smile shone brightly was not what he had expected, nor what he needed at 5:03, before the sun itself had charged its rays for the day. The Vulcan stood at the door for five point six seconds before the golden stranger uttered the familiar 'How may I help you'. It was, however, slightly too loud for a grumpy alien with senses more sensitive than a human's at 5:04.

The stranger had spoken five words and done nothing but be bright and smiling and for some reason, this pissed Spock off. No one was allowed to be this way during this time of the day.

(Never mind that Spock himself usually slept for three to four hours during the nights and usually was up at 4AM. However, preparing his three courses for the upcoming semester had taken its toll on him because of time constraints and terrible internal communication between the administration and the professors. He was bitter, and it was unacceptable that this human was chipper, and bright, and shining, and happy.)

Nevertheless, he went towards the counter and crisply replied, "I would like the Persian Earl Grey blend, please". He needed the black tea for the caffeine and the undertones of jasmine appealed to him because of its soothing and stress-reducing properties. Also, he might be bitter, but he was still sensible enough to be polite to the new employee. No need to take out his bitterness on this star.

God, he had spent too much time with humans if he unintentionally likened this male to a star of all things. Then again, he might be a ball of gases. What did he know.

"Persian Earl Grey, coming right up!", came the chipper response as the barista went to the many jars of teas. He must have noticed the customer's grumpiness, considering that he had lowered his volume a bit. Was that a sparkle in his eyes? No, that would be illogical. Human eyes did not sparkle. He must be seeing things, since he had not meditated properly the past three nights. Surely he was simply thinking too much about space and the many, many stars out there. Shimmering just like this stranger's eyes. Why didn't baristas have name tags? What sort of service…

Wait.

Spock paused just as he had paid for his order. Why did he even want to know this human's name? He had just met him. Had not said anything else but an order for tea. Most fascinating. Then again, Spock had always looked towards the stars – perhaps it wasn't so strange for him to look at those sparkling blue eyes as well. Searching, reaching for something beyond his grasp. His reverie was broken when the barista spoke again, and Spock could only blink at him.

"-ssor. Professor Spock?" Big, bright eyes looked curiously at the Vulcan. Spock almost, _almost_ blushed for having become so distracted by this peculiar person holding a steaming paper cup.

"How do you know my name?" His perfect bangs ruffled slightly as he cocked his head to the side. It would be troublesome if this man was not a human, but a species with mind reading abilities… Most troublesome.

A shrug and a sheepish smile accompanied his statement, "Well, you are a professor at Starfleet Academy, right? Not to brag, but my eidetic memory is pretty good and I'm positive that I've seen you around campus." It seemed like he wanted to say something more, but Spock decided not to ask him to clarify. As curious as he was, it was still too early and he needed to leave for said campus soon. Not to mention that he really should've realised immediately that this young man was a cadet – he did, after all, refer to him as 'professor'.

"Correct. I assume you are a cadet?" It never hurt to ask. Concrete answers are always better than mere assumptions (even if Spock considered himself to be good at assuming things). He waited for the assumed cadet's answer as he gratuitously took the offered tea, letting the warmth wrap around his hands.

"Sort of. A cadet on study leave, I guess. Because of a certain, uh, incident last semester." The cadet-on-study-leave scratched the back of his head and looked even more sheepish than before. Maybe even a little bit ashamed, but Spock admitted that interpreting human emotions was not one of his strong suits. He could only raise an eyebrow, trying to remember any serious incidents that occurred last semester. After a few seconds and some shuffling from the man behind the counter, something finally turned up in his memory banks.

"Are you possibly James T. Kirk who put Victor Tikhonov in the hospital with severe injuries?" Calling it an 'incident' was a very mild way to put it. How Spock did not recognise Kirk was beyond him – then again, at the time, he was bleeding profusely from his nose and had a prominent black eye.

Kirk looked offended. "Okay, first of all, it was not that severe. He simply had a massive nosebleed and a light hit to the head. Which, in my defence, I also had." His brows furrowed as he crossed his arms. "He stole my idea for the essay in Advanced Tactical Training… But the jab he made at Chekov? That was the last straw." Something hardened in the cadet's eyes and Spock dearly wished for them to soften again. Stars were ever-changing, but never did they harden.

"I suppose the rumours were more against you than the truth is."

Hard eyes immediately softened and widened in slight awe as they met chocolate brown. "You believe me?"

"Affirmative. The fact that you are not expelled is also in favour of you speaking the truth." Honestly, if cadet Tikhonov ended up as bad as everyone said, Kirk surely would not be on study leave. Spock couldn't help but understand Kirk, in a way. It was difficult when your so-called 'peers' blamed you for the smallest of things, making the adults think less of you. His memories of the Vulcan Science Academy were certainly not very fond ones.

A few more early birds entered the café as he reminisced. Had it already gotten so late so that even others were starting with their days? He looked at Kirk and saw him smile warmly.

"Cool. Well, professor, I think your tea is going to get cold if we keep chatting," Was it intentional to begin with 'cool' and then mention that his tea might be cold? "But I hope you'll come back if you liked it! Have a nice day!" Baffling. Spock could only nod as he turned to leave the building. "You too, Cadet Kirk." All he heard was an amused snort as the door closed. Strangely, he did not feel quite as bitter as when he had arrived. The Persian Earl Grey tasted impeccably as well, and he was surprised to taste the sweet almond milk in it. How had he known…? Now he certainly needed to return.

James T. Kirk.

What a peculiar star.


End file.
